


Bathe

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22094515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: A romp in the garden.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel/Lindir
Comments: 14
Kudos: 183





	Bathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DrowPrince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowPrince/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for Drowprince’s “Elrond/Lindir hidden garden sex in the rain” request on [my dreamwidth](https://yeaka.dreamwidth.org/1190.html).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Lindir’s breath hitches at the next thrust, his chest arching forward and his head ducking over Elrond’s shoulder—he wraps his arms tighter around his lord and _moans_ as pleasure races through him. Elrond drives so deep inside him that it becomes hard to breathe. He’s rock hard in Elrond’s warm hand, _aroused_ to the very tips of his toes—he curls into Elrond and gasps as the next thrust takes him. Elrond drives up into him and pumps him to the same rhythm, vigorous and _so good_. Lindir’s positive that he’s the luckiest elf in all of Imladris.

No, he’s the luckiest elf in all of Middle Earth. Perhaps even the western lands. They don’t have Elrond there, and Lindir can’t imagine anything more wonderful. Elrond noses at his cheek, and Lindir obediently turns his head, meeting Elrond’s lips for a sweet kiss. He rocks forward into Elrond’s body, and for half a second, he worries he’s become too fervent and might push Elrond back into the hedge. But Elrond is sturdy, strong. He’s braced against the stone bench in one of Imladris’ many hidden gardens. No one has ever interrupted them here. The wall of intertwining leaves and branches behind them is too dense for them to fall through, but it would probably still be uncomfortable if Elrond were to fall into it. Elrond doesn’t. He remains perfectly in place as Lindir bounces in his lap, completely overwhelmed. If Elrond wanted to push him down to the grass beneath them, Lindir would have no choice but to fall. He’d make love in the thorny rose bushes if Elrond wanted it. He would bare himself to Elrond absolutely anywhere. 

He’s grateful it’s _here_ , because this is one of the most magical places. The summer air is rich and warm, the breeze pleasantly tickling through Lindir’s hair and robes. Neither of them has stripped down, which is a shame, because Lindir’s beginning to sweat, though he’s an immortal creature and should have much better stamina. He simply can’t help it. Elrond makes him pant, makes his pulse race, makes him lose his mind. He kisses Elrond over and over again, only pausing when something cold lands on his nose. 

He pulls back to glance towards the sky. He closes his eyes just in time for a raindrop to hit squarely between them. Elrond nips at the corner of his mouth and still keeps going. Lindir shivers as a dozen droplets slosh into his hair, tumbling down to stain his shoulders. 

He kisses Elrond anyway. He keeps rocking forward, meeting Elrond’s thrusts. Elrond pumps him faithfully and slides so deliciously along his inner walls. He can feel the rain slicking down Elrond’s face and gluing their clothes to each other and their bodies. It pains him to think that they should stop. He doesn’t want to. 

Water drizzles down his cheeks and into his mouth, slicking between their mouths, and Lindir begrudgingly turns aside to gasp, “My... my lord... perhaps we should—ah—” He doesn’t get it out, because Elrond is palming his chest through his robes. Lindir’s powerless against that touch. 

Elrond kisses his cheek and murmurs, “I could not leave you now if I wanted to, my songbird.”

Lindir groans. He luxuriates in the sweet burn of Elrond’s thick cock stretching him open, and he bucks helplessly up into Elrond’s hand. But he’s conscious of the water and his coolness. He babbles, “I... I do not want—you cannot catch a cold, my lord—you... ah... you have mortal blood...”

“I am not so frail.” Fluttering kisses litter Lindir’s face, until a warm tongue is sweeping through his mouth again, retreating only to hiss, “But I will be weak enough to cry if you leave me before the end.”

Lindir’s absolutely giddy. He loves Elrond _so much_. He cocoons himself around Elrond’s body as though to shield Elrond from the rain. He cups Elrond’s face and kisses him over and over, determined to finish just like this. The rain doesn’t diminish his own pleasure. He’s the first to come, shuddering and trembling in Elrond’s arms before he splatters Elrond’s hand and both their robes. 

Elrond hisses as Lindir’s channel squeezes around him, fluctuating with the orgasm. It racks through Lindir’s body like lightning. Elrond comes shortly after, spilling while still buried to the hilt. Lindir clenches down to hold onto it. Elrond pumps himself out inside Lindir’s body and gives Lindir’s cock a few extra strokes for good measure. 

Even when they’re both finished, they don’t leave right away. Lindir hums happily and nuzzles into Elrond’s face, while Elrond kisses his temple. Then Elrond gently lifts Lindir off his lap, and Lindir obediently climbs away. 

The rain slowly destroys the evidence. Lindir pats his robes off to help. Then he collects his lover’s hand, and they head for a drier place to carry on.


End file.
